Naught and the Circle

Chapter 8 - Not by the strongest forces, nor the god I fear

I

Jonathan Juarez hated the work. It was tedious and the hours were long. And it did not help that the rest of Hope was itching to have his job. The citizens looked at him with envious eyes whenever he ventured to the lower floors. He practically ran the city. Every man-hour and production quota. Every stockpile and trade contract. He had it all in his head. Juarez had a talent for numbers, and that's why they had appointed him. That and a few greased palms.

So what if he didn't have a fancy title, like General or chairman? Or that he was not one of the original Ten. Juarez knew why he got the job; because he was the best. Under his management, crop yields had gone up a staggering 24%—A number he was darn proud of. Crime in Shikishima had been sliced in half. And he was already on top of the housing crisis. Jonathan Juarez was the uncrowned savior of Hope. That's what he called the city. When things got rough, people forgot its true name. The Human Resistance was only uttered in historic terms, or whispered as a joke. For all intents and purposes, they lived in H-City, but for Juarez, it would always be Hope.

"When will you be back?" His wife asked, folding his clothes on the bed.

It was a plain grey suit, no tie. She had picked it up at the local tailor in exchange for some dried meat. His predecessor had attempted to introduce currency as an easier solution to the inefficient bartering. But times were always volatile, so it did not take. Food was the preferred payment now. The suit had been a bit small for him, so his wife had sown out the sides. Now the fabrics didn't quite match.

"Shouldn't be long, my dear," he replied. "Unless that madman shows up again."

"Do try to stay away from him." She said. "I'll have dinner ready by six. Yurie will take the kids to practise today."

They had two sons, Casper and Connor. both of whom were old enough to be out with their nanny. There was a time when children needed to be locked away, hidden from hungry souls. Grim times. Times they barely got through. But they had worked together, cried together. And in these last thirteen years, life had been promising. The trading had brought them prosperity. The restoration of the domes was finished, and the people were accepting a life without the sun. Juarez praised himself lucky that his boys were born in this gentler era.

"Have a wonderful day." She kissed him on the chin and handed him the briefcase. "And be careful."

He cranked the chain lever, pushed the metal door open, and stepped out into the underground metropolis.

"Mornin', sir," Basil said politely. He was a large brick of a man. Sitting comfortably in his chair outside, reading another book.

"Good morning, Basil." Juarez replied. "How's the wife?"

"Oh, she's so-so." Basil said. "Her back ain't what it used to be, but she ain't complaining."

"Ah, it's acting up again?" Juarez asked. "Are you all set to go?"

"Yes, sir."

The city was waking up. He leaned over the railings at the upper floors, overseeing it all. The cityscape was claustrophobic, chaotic, and crammed together with compartments and close corridors. Twisting lines of pathways bustling with life. The sound of haggling and the smell of fried street food. Good luck finding a spot to squeeze in another small shop or a living quarter down there.

Up here, however, at Lincoln, where it all had started. Here, the ceilings were high and the view wide. Most of the important people lived here: councilmen, doctors, judges. The layout had been structured in such a way that top-ranking officials could venture directly from home to work and back. But it was not barred off. No, this was the city, the very center of it all. Where most folks would visit whenever they needed one of many things. The general hospital was here, the House of Justice, and the Council Hall—where they were now headed.